


If Loving Were a Choice

by callmeautumn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Mentions of body hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 04:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21421996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmeautumn/pseuds/callmeautumn
Summary: “If loving you were a choice, I’d choose to forgo the whole rotten affair."
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter (mentioned), Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	If Loving Were a Choice

**Author's Note:**

> J.k. Rowling & Co own the rights to all recognizable characters and plot points. Everything else is mine. As always, Sarah made me do it.

“And what if I tell you I love you?”

The words are too thick in her mouth. Too real, too bright, too honest to be mistaken for anything other than what they are - not so much a declaration or confession as a plea for forgiveness.

She watches Pansy’s face contort. It twists and collapses into a myriad of expressions, before smoothing into something dignified. She swallows, turns to the maids who stand in the shadowed corners of the room.

“Leave us.” They move immediately, in subconscious unison. “And if you breathe a word of what you’ve heard, I will shrink your heads and display them as baubles.”

They’re eyes, wide, unintelligent, and horrified, blink at Pansy before the pair snaps into motion. They nod their assent, toppling out of their curtsies to exit.

The ensuing silence is raw, painful, crackling.

Pansy’s steps are loud on the hard wood as she crosses what little floor exists between them. Her fingers are cool as they caress her face. Hermione leans into the touch. Small, soft hands turn her around and begin undoing the buttons lining her spine. The bodice loosens, then begins to drop off her shoulders. Finally, the pewter fabric falls in a pool of silk at her feet.

Warm breath puffs against her neck, a match for the warm palms at her waist. Shivers burst down her spine as Pansy’s lips meet her nape. Hermione offers more skin, offers herself and swallows back the bitterness. It rises in her mind, unwelcome, unforgiving.  _ Nothing you do,  _ it hisses  _ will be as loved by the people, or lauded by Parliament, or scribbled by historians as her marriage to Draco _ . 

She swallows it and arches into the soft bite on her shoulder. That bitterness, no matter how truthful, has no home in this moment. She will offer it no quarter as her own fingers slip gown off frame, lips press kisses to soft, full lips. Later, she will stew in her dismay, in the state of their disordered, criminal, sinful love. Later. But not now.

~

Hermione’s skin is warm against her chest. The hair on her flank is soft, thick. She caresses it. She takes in the flicker of her eyelids, the depth and warmth of her breath. Against her hip, Hermione’s finger twitches.

Love. Love is such a scary, fickle, underwhelming word; too small to capture the depth of her heart for the woman lying beside her. It is so much deeper than the passing affection she bestows upon her husband, and has been given in return. In some distant chamber of this castle, she’s certain Draco is lying in a similar state with Lord Potter - skin to skin, heart to heart, love to love.

“All my life I’ve primed myself to be the dutiful wife of the King,” she whispers. “I’ve taught myself to trust no one, truly love no one, lest they attempt to take from me what has always been mine and was nearly denied me.

“But you, my heart. You are my greatest weakness; my most stunning failure to date. I couldn’t live without you if I tried.” Beside her, Hermione sleeps on.

Pansy huffs out a defeated laugh. She knows when she’s been bested, when her hand has been overplayed, and worse by a player who’d no idea they were playing for keeps. “If loving you were a choice, I’d choose to forgo the whole rotten affair. But it seems the fates and the stars above have conspired to make it impossible for my heart to leave your tender, doomed embrace.”

She lets her eyes slip shut. Her head rests on the pillow beside Hemione, close enough to feel the warm gust of breath against her chin. Hermione pulls her closer, the heavy rhythm of her breath, smooth and steady, pulling Pansy to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out on Tumblr: @callmeautumn


End file.
